


After Tale: Sift

by chimaeracabra



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Jake Gyllenhaal - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 08:32:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3971125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chimaeracabra/pseuds/chimaeracabra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A moment post Sift with Jake, his wife, and his daughter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Tale: Sift

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sift](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2737142) by [chimaeracabra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chimaeracabra/pseuds/chimaeracabra). 



> Oh my god, I have some time to write for maybe the next month or so. I have missed this so much it hurts. I came up with this idea while I was trying to go to sleep last night before my 8am physics exam. I have been reflecting back on some of the stories I've written already, doing some editing here and there, re-reading, and realized that there are moments that I may have forgotten to include/came up with after ending a story. I'll call these vignettes After Tales, followed by the title of the story that it belongs to. This one is for Sift (so if you haven't read that yet, maybe you want to. Although for this particular After Tale, it isn't really essential that you know each and every single character from the story).

                Her tiny hand trembles just as I make it to my knees, the mascara brush gradually contacting my eyelid. I automatically laugh, hearing Jake stifle a giggle. Gemma gasps and the brush pulls back from my skin.

                " _No!_ I ruined it, mommy," she says. It doesn't take me opening my eyes to realize that Gemma is about to cry, I can hear the expression on her face.

                "No, no, no—it's okay," Jake says hastily, laughing. I open my eyes to find him lowering the camera to Gemma's height, still recording, despite the tempered stamping of her feet. She's clearly frustrated, after spending all that time trying to perfect my eyeshadow.

                " _No_!" Gemma screams, stepping on Jake's socked foot. He feigns a wince before stopping the camera, placing it on the bed, and picking up the irritated young girl. She drops the mascara brush—which I catch before it hits the hardwood floor—struggling in Jake's arms, causing the pale blue button down shirt he's wearing to come out of its tidy tucked position inside his slacks. I screw the mascara closed.

                "Not funny!" Gemma screams, trying to shroud her face from Jake's kisses. He stops laughing.

                "It's alright, baby. Everyone makes mistakes," he says comfortingly.

                " _No!_ Made mommy look bad," Gemma wails. I turn to look in the mirror. Atop the skin tone eyeshadow I had let Gemma apply is a black smear from the mascara brush. The mark isn't so severe that I would have considered everything ruined. In my honest opinion, she'd done just as good a job as I could have done myself.

                "It's okay, Gem. I can take it off and let you do it again. Want to do it over again?" I ask her cautiously. She finally buries her face into Jake's chest and goes from wailing to sniffling calmly. Jake approaches the mirror, smiling, fighting a laugh as he admires the work Gemma has done on my eyes. I shake my head in warning, tacitly letting him know that she'll throw another fit if he laughs again. He swallows hard and assumes a serious expression. He pats Gemma on the back.

                "That's not bad, sweetheart. Look at mom. Doesn't she look pretty?"

Gemma reluctantly lifts her head to look at me. I'm smiling because I love her. I would have allowed the girl to paint my face green for this dinner party if she wanted to. Gemma pulls her hands down her cheeks.

                "No!" she says. I glance at the mascara brush in my hand just as Jake begins to laugh again. Gemma slaps his chest, finally taking both her small hands and covering his mouth. This only makes him smile more.

                "You made me mess up, daddy!" Gemma argues. The idea was to let her do a makeup tutorial using my face. She was still too young to be using makeup at six, and Jake wasn't about to let her out of the house looking like JonBenét.

                " _Me_?" Jake asks comically, and I have to fight not to laugh myself, "What did I do?!" he mumbles from beneath her fingers. She presses her forehead to his, glaring, her thick eyebrows pulled together, just like Jake, whose expression mimics hers. I fight the urge to grab the camera and photograph the pair. Gemma spits against Jake's face. His eyes close momentarily, his head tilting back only slightly. He's used to this reaction from our daughter.

                "Gemma, what did we talk about? Remember when we talked about spitting?" he says in a serious tone. Gemma growls as a response.

                "I mean it. I'm gonna put that camera away and we won't do mommy's makeup again if you keep that spitting up—"

                "Jacob," I sigh, pulling the girl out of his arms as she begins to cry once more. She wraps her arms around me tightly.

                "You _cannot_ go spitting at people every time you get upset—"

                "Jake—"

                "Do you hear me, Gemma?"

                "Shut up, daddy!" Her little voice rings in my ear, full of anger.

                "Gemma Marlene Gyllenhaal—"

                "Alright. I have a better idea," I begin, placing Gemma on her feet and wiping her cheeks. She begins to calm down as I pick up the mascara.

                "Why don't we do _daddy's_ makeup, and I will hold the camera?" Gemma's expression is utter confusion for a moment as she turns to look up at her father, who's busy tucking his shirt in. Gemma turns back to me, tilting her head to the side.

                "Daddies aren't supposed to wear makeup," she explains, pushing her hand through my hair.

                "Actually, Gem, they can. And dad's an actor. They put makeup on him _all_ the time when he works. I'm sure he's used to it."

                "Really?" Gemma asks, surprised. Jake's eyes are wide when he sees me handing Gemma the mascara again. I pick up the camera and she makes her way towards him.

                "You're not serious, are you?" he mouths. I cross my arms for a moment.

                "You said she could do a makeup tutorial as long as she wasn't putting makeup on herself," I explain, cocking a brow. Jake slowly descends to his knees after staring down at Gemma for a handful of seconds. I had always known how little he could resist making his children happy. He doesn't complain as Gemma cups his cheek in her left hand and stares really closely at his face.

                "Be careful, baby," I say, sitting atop the quilt to film, "You don't want to blind dad."

Jake glances up at me, cocking a brow and giving me a look that says I'll pay for this later. I successfully stifle a laugh.

                "Okay. I be careful," Gemma says in a tone as sweet as sugar. She pauses with the brush right at Jake's long lashes.

                "Daddy, put your big head back," she says, pressing on his forehead. He begins to smile again, unable to not feel the love in her small hands all over his face. Her hand works very still and slowly, until Jake's eyelashes are dark and voluminous.

                "So, that's the mascara," Gemma explains, facing the camera and turning Jake's head to face me.

                "Good job!" I add from behind the camera. Gemma's smile grows.

                "Okay, great job, Gem. Let's go get Piper and Gabby so we won't be late for dinner, okay?" Gemma pulls on Jake's shoulder when he tries to get up.

                "Not done," she explains. Jake looks at me pleadingly. I shake my head at him, handing Gemma the eye shadow palette.

                "Isn't that good enough, honey?" he asks, "You don't want me to look prettier than your mom, do you?" I know he's only trying to convince the girl not to go any further. She frowns.

                "Okay, okay," he says, surrendering. The next thing I know, Jake's eyelids match mine (sans the mascara smudge) and when Gemma goes to reach for the lipstick, he stands right up.

                "Daddy," I call from behind the camera, hoping Gemma won't cry again. He gets really close to the camera and models his face from left to right, sporting a hand under his chin, at which point, Gemma laughs. He then takes the camera from me and hits the stop button.

                "I'm going to get you for this," he says quietly, leaning over me where I sit to speak directly into my ear. A shiver runs down my spine, and I find myself unable to wait for the night, when we will be back home and alone in our room.

                "Let's go get your sisters and we're going to go to dinner," Jake explains, taking Gemma by the hand, "There's going to be lobster, remember? You said that's what you wanted to eat."

                "Yeah! Your lips are too small for lipstick, anyway. Looks better on mommy," Gemma adds, and I hear Jake laughing all the way down the hall.


End file.
